


my eyes are open

by reylofics



Category: Fight Club (1999), Fight Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Imagination, Jealousy, M/M, POV First Person, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylofics/pseuds/reylofics
Summary: the narrator discusses his eventful day.





	my eyes are open

**Author's Note:**

> tw; graphic depictions of sex and questionable (but still consensual) sex between the main characters who have mental illnesses that’re alluded to.
> 
> other than that, read at your own risk. pretty sure you knew what you were getting into from reading the title so, without further ado, enjoy! :) <3

Tyler Durden was so fucking hot. Insanely hot. Unbelievably hot. His hair was messy and clean like my clothes after I wash them at the dry cleaner’s. His abs were sharp and defined like the outline of his cock when he got hard—not that I noticed nor had the time to notice, what with him screwing Marla fucking Singer every minute of every day and me sleeping or working every other second of the day. 

God, it was so damn annoying. I heard the slap of flesh upon flesh every day almost as much as I went to my support groups. Marla’s over-exaggerated moans, screams and squeals seemed to mock the over-exaggerated grunts that Tyler made every time he skillfully (I’m not into dick but I can appreciate when another guy has skill) slid in and out of her batshit crazy pussy. Quite frankly, I was surprised that her pussy hadn’t started screaming at him, too. 

Who am I to talk, though? If I was fucking Tyler Durden, I know I sure as hell would probably imitate Marla’s butchered pig reenactments in bed. That would be interesting. I’ve never had sex with a guy before. Maybe Tyler would be the one to show me the ropes if I was gay. And before you start to raise your eyebrows and wonder if there’s something more to this, you can stop playing Detective Bullshit right about now because I could give less of a crap about Tyler loving me the way he loves Marla’s pussy. After all, Tyler Durden hasn’t the slightest clue as to what love is. All he knows is fucking and I’m fine with that, so long as he fucks me (So, I might be horny for Tyler Durden but that still doesn’t mean I’m gay) instead of that phony Marla Singer that took away some of my favorite support groups. For all I care, she can go hell.

I wish Tyler thought the same. Sure, it’s probably just wishful thinking that he’d fuck me for a change but it still gets pretty tiresome hearing him pound into her while they repeat the same old routine night after night. Yesterday, they had a long, slow fuck that was so quiet that I could hear her fingernails scratching down his back. The day before, he fucked her brains out upstairs and she pretended to orgasm seven times. I’m pretty sure she only came three times.

Today, he’s fucking her on the couch next door. She’s been coming over so many times that they don’t even the decency to screw around upstairs in the privacy of his room. Marla’s probably getting tired of the smell of her own come on his bedsheets that he never washes. I would be too. Still, she’s lucky to have a swell guy like Tyler Durden banging her. If only he could fuck the crazy out of her, I think she’d be alright.

Right now, she seems to be alright, especially since she’s being not being too theatrical with her moaning today. When they’re slapping up against each other, she’s too lost in her own selfish world of desires to be consumed with craziness. I don’t think she realizes I can hear them. For Christ’s sake, they’re only a few footsteps away. I could pretend to turn the corner and “accidentally” see him dragging his cock in and out of her pale body. I’ve always wondered how they fucked. Does he fuck her missionary style—where he can see her weird face switch into a face of ecstasy that is so practiced that it almost becomes normal to her—or does he fuck her doggy style—where her back is turned so that she can’t see his face when he’s imagining that it’s me he’s coming into instead of her (that’s probably not the case but one can only hope)? I wonder.

Other than that, I pretty much know everything about how they fuck. I know that he gives out these quick, shallow breaths when she’s blowing him. She does the same but her breaths are longer when he’s eating her out and I can always hear his muffled mumbles that try to hide behind the skin of her legs. But when he rubs her on that sensitive spot of hers, boy, am I in for a treat! Her breathing starts to hitch and she starts to make those over-exaggerated pig squeals of hers except this time they’re real instead of fake. When he starts to rub her faster and faster, she sucks in her breath like she’s trying to swallow it down into the pools of her belly and curses so loudly that our neighbors would probably yell at us if we had them. The reason I mention this is because it’s beautiful. 

No, I don’t get hard from this. I don’t even get the slightest bit horny when I hear her come around him. At this very moment, as she comes around his cock and presumably slides off of it, I get hard for an entirely different reason. In the other room, I can hear him grunting like the guys he hears in the porn he watches while he releases the last of his energy onto her. Luckily, the plate I’m holding in my lap somewhat hides the enormous tent that springs up in my boxers when they’re finished in the living room. I feel like touching myself—after all, is it really any different from Tyler fucking Durden banging Marla fucking Singer in the other room when he knows I’m trying to eat my fucking breakfast and read my fucking news? Then again, I have to remember that I have decency, a concept that my roommate doesn’t seem to understand. This is evidently apparent when he walks into the kitchen butt-naked.

Marla walks out calmly behind him. At least she put her tattered dress back on. Her tits look good, but not as nice as Bob’s. 

She notices me looking and laughs. I don’t know why. It’s not even funny. In her right hand, she holds a cigarette and lights it. Then she leans real close to my face, breaths the smoke in and exhales it out onto my face.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, pyscho?” I ask, wiping the smoke from my face. My coughing resembles Tyler’s grunts when he spilt the last of himself onto her. Disgusting.

“Fuck you.” The smile disappears from her face. “I—no, fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” Marla Singer, crazy little woman that she is, flips me off and drops the cigarette at my feet at the same time that she slams the door shut and walks out the house.

Tyler finally turns around to face me. I’m trying really hard not to look below his abs. This turns out to be really hard (I’m not sure whether my mind has subconsciously conjured up this pun or not) considering the fact that I can’t help but stare at him. It’s like he was made for my perverted mind.

“That crazy bitch took off again?”

I feel like being snarky. “You have eyes, don’t you?”

Tyler’s snarky right back. “Yeah, but I don’t see the world the way you do. I don’t hear things the way you do. For instance, I don’t know what you’re thinking right now when you look at my cock like you want me to fuck you with it. Oh wait, I guess I do know what you’re thinking.”

I’m so glad that I have this plate over my lap. I think I might die if I let Tyler Durden get the satisfaction of knowing I get hard over him.

“Why would anyone want to fuck your cock? Marla doesn’t count, she’s only fucking you because nobody else wants to fuck her crazy ass.” 

Damn, I sound jealous. Am I jealous? There’s no way that I’m jealous of Marla fucking Singer. The only thing I’d possibly be jealous of her for is all the support groups she stole from me. Other than that, I could give less of a shit about who she fucks. Even if the person she fucks is my very attractive roommate.

Suddenly, I feel my feet being lifted and my breath hitches like Marla when she’s about to squirt all over the place. It’s only him, lifting my feet to get the cigarette that she left behind. He puts it between his teeth, unlit, almost like he wants to prove a point. I’m scared of what he’s going to say next.

“You have a hard on for me,” remarks Tyler.

“I was hard from Marla,” I lie. I’m so fucking stupid for trying to lie; Tyler Durden sees through me like I’m some mirror he has on his wall.

Shit, he’s still naked and my hard on is threatening to break the plate on my lap. I hear him walking closer and closer until his mouth is almost latched onto the outer edge of my ear.

“You wanna know what I think?” The noise that comes out of me in response is quiet and pathetic. What’s the point of having a Fight Club if we can’t learn to fight our thoughts?

Tyler continues. “I think that you’re lying. Marla doesn’t get you hard. Her tight pussy is nothing compared to my cock and I’m willing to bet that I could make you come on the spot if I took you onto the couch and fucked your ass raw. Would you like that?”

I am Jack’s throbbing cock.

The glass plate breaks. Why do we even own such an expensive plate? You’d think that we’d know better than to buy expensive things, especially since both of us are so reckless. Reckless enough to fuck the living daylights out of each other.  
You have no idea how constricting my jeans feel. Have you ever almost drowned? That’s what this feels like. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of Tyler’s come.

“I’m going to fuck you now if you’re okay with that.” Of course I am. Why the hell would I ever dream of saying no? Who the hell would ever dream of saying no? Not me, that’s for sure. I’m ready as I’ll ever be when his hand drifts down my shirt.

His hand palms the top of my jeans so familiarly that his hand feels like my own. It’s an odd feeling but not an unwelcome one. I am completely wrecked underneath him and at his mercy. My hips involuntarily buck into his hands and he laughs like Marla did when she caught me looking at her tits, except I like his laugh more. Tyler doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to say anything when he unzips my jeans and sinks to his knees. I’m suddenly aware of how naked he is compared to me and I look at my surroundings. The cigarette butt has been carelessly tossed behind him, my breakfast from the broken plate carelessly is splashed on the floor and OH! 

My cock has been sent to heaven. His lips are wrapped around the top and now I understand why Marla makes so many noises when she’s being fucked by Tyler Durden. Getting fucked by Tyler Durden is like fucking a credit card company; it’s cool and all, but you’ll eventually get screwed over if you spend all your money within the first five minutes. 

So as much as I hate his lips on the very top of me instead of the bottom, I don’t want to spend my life savings on him in less than a minute. I want him to fuck me slow and hard (God, maybe I am gay). 

Sex turns out to be one of Tyler’s many gifts. His lips keep brushing over the head of my cock painstakingly slow. He’s treating my cock like a dandelion and I should feel humiliated but instead I feel elated. If I had hairs on the side of my cock, they would be standing up right now. I’m sure Tyler knows that too because he keeps grinning when he sees me squirming above him while he pins me down and takes off my jeans so that I won’t buck wildly into his mouth like I’m some fucking virgin. 

Sometimes, I wish I was stronger than Tyler Durden. Then, I could flip him over onto his back and demand that he fuck me. But that’s not me. That’s clearly not what I do. I wish it was but it’s not so I guess I’ll just have to endure the pain of what has to be the world’s slowest blowjob (that feels like a really nice handjob, for some reason). At least he’s finally swirling his tongue on the slit of my cock and I’m feeling more pleasure than annoyance. Still, I want to shove my cock into the back of his throat and make him act like the dirty slut he is. Unfortunately, I seem to be the dirty slut in this narrative.

“Dirty slut,” laughs Tyler before gulping down my cock. Is he a mind reader or something? 

Well, I guess I don’t really have much time to think about that. It feels like he’s done this many times before. My cock pulsates strongly around the walls of his mouth and he’s so pretty underneath me (Why does Tyler make me feel this way? The only other person I consider to be pretty is myself and even then...). Watching the way his cheeks hollow as he takes me further down his throat and the sound he makes when he gags on my cock makes me feel like such a dirty slut. This is better than watching porn. This is better than any cheaply made porn that my boss watches and it’s certainly better than hearing my roommate bang my psycho support group ally. I’d much rather prefer him gagging on my cock than him sucking on Marla Singer’s tongue. This way, I get to come down Tyler Durden’s throat and watch him swallow my come like it’s milk, assuming that he swallows. He doesn’t even make a weird face or anything when he swallows my come. Now, it’s evident that he’s not a spitter. Tyler just shrugs, wipes the come off the corners of his mouth and wipes his hand on my bare thigh. For some reason, this action leaves a mildly salty taste in my mouth. I decide to ignore it when he lifts my arms out of my shirt.

It’s kind of funny seeing all my clothes lie on the floor. Feels like a metaphor or some type of story that stars me turning from the conservative virgin to the naked slut that’s begging to be fucked in the ass. Graphic but accurate enough. 

My roommate understands. He flips me around on the chair that I was sitting on and spits on his index finger. I know what he’s about to do but I still feel the pain of his finger sliding through my back entrance. This must be what deepthroating my cock felt like—his fingers were my cock and his mouth was my ass. Tyler, if you can hear me, I’m sorry. Sorry if my cock felt like your fingers stretching me wide open.

Actually, I’m not sorry to have made Tyler Durden choke on my cock but it’s not like I have much time to think about that. As always, Tyler Durden interrupts my thoughts. Almost on cue, Tyler sharply inserts a third digit into me. I didn’t even realize when he had put the second finger in. All three fingers curl and pump in and out of me. My senses are overloaded. I can see his fingers fucking me, feel them starting to brush a good spot in my body and hear the sound of flesh upon flesh. This feels like heaven and just as I feel the familiar warm feeling building in the very pit of my stomach, I’m suddenly empty.

“What the fuck, Tyler?” I sound like a whiny brat. This is exactly what Marla Singer sounds like and I hate myself for doing exactly what she does.

Tyler seems to think otherwise. Without warning, he shoves himself inside of my well lubricated walls and presses his lips harshly on mine (I’m a slut for his lips). I moan into the kiss and he gently slaps my ass when he starts to roughly thrust in me (I’m a slut for his cock in my ass). It feels beyond amazing. He starts the repeated motion of his cock curving in and out of me in the same spot that leaves me feeling ecstatic and I wish he was God so that we could fuck for the rest of our eternal lives. The clock is on the wall is spinning faster and faster. Tyler’s fucking me harder and faster and my cock is throbbing harder than anyone could ever believe right now. My cock throbs with his and his heart beats with mine. I am Tyler Durden and Tyler Durden is me. His hand lazily reaches under my shoulder to jerk me off when he gets close. I know he’s struggling not to come until I come because of the way his arms become shaky and his cock starts to still inside of me. Luckily, I’m not far behind. The warm pool has finally set in my belly and I feel it swimming out to the head of my cock. In a matter of seconds, it does. It’s odd that Tyler does the exact same thing at the exact same time but it’s probably just another one of Tyler Durden’s many skills. I lie there on the kitchen floor for a few seconds to take it all in and Tyler seems to disappear out from under me in the next few breaths that I take.

When it’s all over, it feels like a hastily rushed dream except for one thing. My eyes are open.

**Author's Note:**

> read, comment, give a kudos—you know the deal? thank you so much in advance.
> 
> update: this story was originally posted on july 13th, 2018 but has since been updated.


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